Moving In
by BEN-Beyond the Elusive Nomads
Summary: It's hard to be a skeptic when your dead. Written for AU Bingo on LJ.
1. Moving In

**Title:** Moving In  
**Prompt:**Fantasy: Ghosts  
**Medium:** Fic  
**Rating**: PG  
**Warnings:**Character Death, Violence

**Summary:**It's hard to be a skeptic when you're dead.

She had been there for years, never changing, never moving. The house was her realm, and it was where she had been ever since her death. A wry smile curved her lip. She had never believe in Ghosts, but she supposed you had to see it to believe it.

She had died when she was 22, fresh out of College and off to live a life in some small one horse town called Sunnydale. She'd gotten a good deal on a good house, and moved in without any problems. She was on her own, ready for whatever life threw at her.

Except a robbery, that is. She'd barely lived there a week before some joker decided that she would be an east target and had tried to steal her still-packed belongings. She'd woken up and beaten the shit out of him, but he pulled a gun and bam! Brain matter everywhere. It had been so long that she didn't even remember her own name some times.

But today was different. Someone was moving in. She knew because the energies that surrounded her were alive with life and scattered everywhere. She was surprisingly lucid from all the activity and for once remembered who she was.

She was Buffy.

She smiled and prepared to watch as the new homeowner began to unpack.

.

Spike was tired – he'd been unpacking his belongings all day, and he was ready to pass out from exhaustion. However he was glad to be out of LA. He had been to one too many book signings for his likings and it was time he settle down and rest for a few months before finishing up his newest novel. He'd gotten a good deal on this house, and it had this energy that just seemed to call to him – almost like it was full of stories for him to tell.

He frowned. Bloody hell, he'd been hanging out with Rupert too much – he was startin' to sound like him now.

He placed his last book on his bookshelf and visibly relaxed. It was time for sleep. Well, either that or dinner. He wasn't too sure – but one thing he was sure off was he was getting out of these clothes and pulling on some sweat pants.

He stretched, popping his back before heading upstairs to his room. When he reached to top of the stairs he froze and frowned into the hallway before shrugging it off. He could have sworn that he'd seen someone standing in the doorway to the bathroom.

He almost laughed at himself – clearly he'd been spending too much time writing novels and out of the real world.

He didn't take too much time changing clothes as his stomach started to growl impatiently. He left his room and headed down stairs, tugging his shirt down only to freeze three steps from the bottom.

There, standing in the middle of the living room, was a girl. For a moment he thought he was getting robbed, but then he realized that she was missing from the waist down, and he knew that something really weird was going on.

She turned slowly and her large hazel eyes blinked in surprise.

And then she was gone.


	2. Moving Out

**Title:** Moving Out  
**Prompt:** Fantasy and Supernatural: Ghost  
**Medium:** Fic  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** Violence, Character Death  
**Summary:** Companion piece to 'Moving In'. Spike finds out what his ghostly roommate feels like.

Spike hummed to himself absently as he walked around his house, a beer in one hand and a bowl of chips in the other. He took a seat on the couch and sat the bowl on the coffee table, not even blinking as the couch sank slightly on his left and the faded form of a young blonde appeared.

"What, not going out tonight?" she asked with a wry smile, glancing at his beer with amusement.

"Nope. Its pourin' buckets out there. Traffic's gonna suck, even in this small of a town." He explained, leaning back and turning on the tv, "Sides, Passions is on."

"I just don't get what you see in that show." She said with a frown, "Its so unrealistic."

"Wha', an' livin' with a ghost isn't?" he countered. She opened her mouth to protest before she sighed and shrugged. Spike smirked.

"Tha's Spike, one, Buffy, zero."

Spike had moved into the house almost three months ago and almost immediately met the long-term resident, Buffy Summers. At first they tip toed around each other, Buffy never appearing without some sort of warning, and Spike always keeping an eye peeled. Finally they both gave in and just sat down to have a nice chat. It didn't really go the way either of them had planned it, but they really wouldn't have it any other way.

"I don't get this show." Buffy said an hour later as the credits started to roll, "That was the finale?"

"Yup." Spike agreed, turning off the television and glanced at the clock. He sighed, and stretched. "Well, guess its time for me to turn in."

"Remember, tomorrow I get to chose what we watch!" she called after him. He murmured a noncommittal 'yeah, yeah' before grumbling his way up stairs. Buffy smiled solemnly and watched him ascend, not moving from her spot on the couch.

Sometimes, afterlife was just cruel. She finds the man of her dreams, and there is one fundamental problem – she's dead, and he's alive. And she would never wish this life on him.

As Spike slept Buffy wandered around the house, looking at all the bits and pieces that made him, him. Her heart ached as time went on, but she knew there was nothing she could do except watch him be happy. Wasn't that better than watching him be miserable?

The clock struck at half past two, and Buffy froze as a menacing chill raced down her spine. She turned and looked towards the kitchen, the source of the tingles, and waited. For long minutes nothing happened, and she began to doubt her senses that, though dulled, had never failed her before. She sighed and went to head upstairs when a creak stalled her.

Wind picked up and dusted through the kitchen to rattle the unpaid bills on the table. Buffy turned back around and felt her body freeze at the sight that greeted her.

There was someone in the kitchen. She watched as the dark shadow walked silently through the room, looking around and packing a few things in his bag before he began to head into the living room. He didn't even notice her, and she knew that she had to move and warn Spike, prepare him.

She dashed upstairs and flew through the door, not even flinching at the sight of Spike's bare back and shapely body barely hidden by the thin sheets. She hesitated at the side of the bed and muttered a brief apology before she slammed her hand down on her back.

She fazed right though. Her eyes widened and panic bloomed in her chest.

"Oh, God, Spike!" she whispered loudly, desperately trying to wake him, "Please, please, please wake up!"

Nothing. Spike just kept on snoring. At this point she could hear the creaking of the stairs, and her panic flared out of control. She could see the lights flickering in the hallway from under the door, heard as doors slammed shut. That didn't seem to deter the burglar though, and he just kept on up the stairs.

"Spike!" Buffy screamed, not caring if the whole world heard her, "Wake up! Please, please, don't do this! Spike!"

He couldn't hear her. He was dead to the world.

The bedroom door opened and Buffy froze, looking up and gasping as she recognized the figure. It was one of Spikes newer acquaintances, Angel. He glanced around the room and quickly spotted Spike laying on the bed. He grinned, and Buffy cried out as he pulled out a gun from his holster.

"Oh god, please, no!" Buffy cried. She ran at the intruder but simply fazed through. She swatted at him, beat down on his chest, but no hit landed and he never even flinched. Why couldn't she fight him off! Why couldn't he see her!"

She was crying now, unable to tear her eyes away as the brunette approached the sleeping homeowner and cocked the gun, pressing it against his temple.

Her scream was blocked out by the sound of a gun. Blood splattered the wall and the bed, and Spike's body gave an awkward lurch. Angel didn't even flinch as blood splattered across his face, and instead re-holstered the gun and quickly left the room.

"Knew I shouldn't have trusted tha' wanker."

His voice shocked her and she turned around to see Spike standing there, his body transparent and an angry frown across his face. He was completely nude, but that didn't faze her – she'd seen him taking a shower before, and he wasn't shy about walking around in the nude. Instead, she threw herself into his arms, not even hesitating to wonder if they would connect.

Her arms wrapped around him and she pressed into his chest, pressing her face into his neck. It was odd, feeling him so firmly pressed against her, but at the same time it felt so right.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered. Spike just wrapped his arms around her, unable to pull his eyes away from his body that sat just feet away from them.

"Well, it looks like we're going to be room mates a bit longer than anticipated." He said. He finally looked away from his body and down at the sobbing blonde in his arms, "Tha' an' I don't have to bleach my hair any more."

Buffy just laughed brokenly and hugged him tighter.


	3. Roommates

**Title:** Roommates  
**Prompt:** Fantasy and Supernatural: Afterlife  
**Medium:** Fic  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** Language  
**Summary:** Buffy helps Spike adapt. Companion piece to 'Moving In' and 'Moving Out'

"This is weird." Spike said as he watched the paramedics zip up the body bag and roll his body out into the ambulance, "This is very, very weird."

"Well at least it only happens once." Buffy quipped, "But I wouldn't head upstairs for a while. After I died, I couldn't look at the living room without having a panic attack. It took a while to get the bloodstains out."

Spike shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets – the bonus of being a ghost was that he could wear whatever the hell he felt like wearing. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

"It takes time." Buffy said softly, reaching out slightly before changing her mind and slipping her hand in her pocket, "I'll help you as much as I can."

"What is there to know?" Spike asked, flinching slightly as a crime scene investigator brushed through him on his way upstairs, "I'm dead, I'm a ghost, an' I'm stuck."

"You need to stay." Buffy said, "You can't leave."

Spike shot her a look, "Wha', not I'm not allowed to pass on?"

"That's not what I'm saying." Buffy retorted, "You're allowed to pass on whenever you think you can. What I meant is that you, Spike, can not leave. You can't loose yourself, or else you'll become something else entirely."

"Wha', like a poltergeist?" he asked.

"Exactly like a poltergeist." Buffy agreed, "I've never met any, but when you die you start to learn all these new things. The knowledge just pours in, and you have this innate sense about you, and who you are, and what can happen. You can't get lost, especially since you died the way you did."

Spike looked at her for a long moment, the sad curve of her eyes and the soft pout of her mouth showing just how much this meant to her. He sighed and scratched his head.

"Well I guess this means I'm gonna need your help." He finally said. She smiled up at him and nodded.

"I'll help you as much as I can, but I can only do so much." She agreed, "The rest is up to you."

.

Spike knew that he was dead, but it took months for it to really hit him. Buffy kept trying to warn him that things wouldn't always be easy, that he was still in shock, but he didn't believe her. He brushed her off and continued to move, wishing that he could comfort his family that he knew he would likely never see again.

Then it hit him – he was dead, and he wasn't every going to stop being dead. This was a permanent situation and he needed to make the most of it. Well, that thought didn't come till later, but it did make an appearance several times throughout his attempts to cope.

Buffy was always there, though, holding his hand – literally at times – and making sure he didn't go completely bonkers. She kept him from falling of the ledge into darkness and poltergeist-hood.

About three months after his death a new family bought the hosue, a young couple fresh from their honeymoon named Anya and Xander Harris. They served as a source of entertainment for years, but never once did they see them. It was years until the duo passed away, leaving the house to their children who left it to their children and so on and so on.

Never once did Spike or Buffy think of crossing over. They had each other, and that was all they needed.


End file.
